A SOLVENT HOUSE
“I’ve bought in your stock,” Eichberg was saying to Copeland. “You put
up fourteen hundred and eighty-five shares with the Western National
and I’ve bought ’em in at private sale under your collateral agreement.
As I understand it there are fifteen shares held by employees to
qualify as directors. I guess there won’t be any trouble about them,
and we’ll let ’em stand for the present.”
“Those men paid for their stock and you have no right to touch it,”
said Copeland. “The stock in this company has an actual value of two
hundred dollars a share--”
“Rubbish! Your capital’s shrunk till you can’t see it any more.”
“Don’t you believe it! The house was never as sound as it is to-day.
I hope you don’t think I’m going to stand by and let the Western sell
me out on a small loan in this high-handed fashion! It’s a frame-up, a
conspiracy to clean me out. I’ve still got a majority of the stock, and
I’ll give you a run for your money before you get through with me!”
“Keep your temper, Copeland! I don’t like doing this, but it’s better
for me to have the business than to let it peter out, the way it’s
doing. I’ll even say that after we consolidate I’ll be glad to make a
place for you in the house.”
“Oh, you needn’t trouble!” returned Copeland hotly. “You’re not going
to get rid of me so easy!”
“All right! Just how much stock do you think you’ve got?” asked
Eichberg with a faint ironic smile.
“I’ve got fifteen hundred shares; the bank understood that when I
refused their demand for a majority,” Copeland replied, frowning over
the stock-ledger.
“That shows how much you know about your own business! There’s twenty
shares out of your half that I’ve been trying to lay my hands on for
two months. It was a deal Farley made the last year he was down here
with a Fort Wayne jobber named Reynolds that he bought out after your
father died. I know because we tried to buy up Reynolds ourselves, but
old Uncle Tim went us one better. There wasn’t much to the business,
but the good-will was worth something and Farley let Reynolds have
twenty shares just to beat us out of the sale. Farley had sense! When
Reynolds died his executor sold the stock to somebody here. Foreman
handled it, but he won’t tell me who he sold to. I know you didn’t get
it! Foreman says he spent a month last summer lookin’ for you to give
you a chance to buy the stock, but he couldn’t get hold of you. You
were always off sportin’ with Kinney!”
Copeland had forgotten about the Reynolds shares. He mentally cursed
Farley for not reminding him of them; Farley had never dealt squarely
with him! Very likely he had personally told Eichberg and the Western
National of the Reynolds shares. It was galling to be obliged to learn
from Eichberg things he should have known himself. He had flattered
himself that in persuading the bank to accept fourteen hundred and
eighty-five shares as collateral instead of the majority for which
demand had been made at first, he had shown his business sagacity; but
evidently Eichberg had known of the Reynolds shares all along.
“I don’t intend that what’s left of this business shall go to the bad,”
said Eichberg. “Either you come to terms, and let ’em know outside that
we’ve arranged a merger in a friendly way, or I’ll call up my lawyer
and tell him to apply for a receiver.”
Outside, the interested and anxious clerks and stenographers, cold
with excitement, watched their associate, Mr. Jeremiah Amidon, who was
inviting the wrath of the gods by knocking upon Copeland’s door. When
he entered in response to an angry bellow, they expected to see him
reappear instantly, possibly at the end of William B. Copeland’s foot.
To their chagrin Amidon remained in the private office for some time;
and they judged from the sudden quiet that followed his disappearance
that he was exerting a calming influence upon Copeland and his
visitor....
“I beg your pardon,” Jerry remarked while Copeland and Eichberg glared
at him.
To Copeland the sight of Jerry was an unwelcome reminder of the
previous night. His remorse over his effort to burn the store
vanished; if it hadn’t been for this meddlesome cub he wouldn’t now be
entertaining Eichberg in his office!
“Well, what does the boy want?” demanded Eichberg, when Copeland found
it impossible to express his wrath at Jerry’s intrusion.
Eichberg knew Jerry perfectly well; everybody in the street knew Jerry!
And it was the basest insult to refer to him as the boy.
“Excuse me, Mr. Eichberg! I just wanted to hand a memorandum to Mr.
Copeland.”
He drew from his pocket the certificate he had purchased from Foreman,
and handed it to Copeland, who snatched it from him with an angry snarl.
“Where did you get this?” he asked faintly after a glance at the paper.
“Oh, it just blew in my way early in the fall. I never bothered to get
a new certificate, but I’ll turn it in right now.”
He pulled out a fountain pen, removed the cap deliberately, and wrote
his name in the blank space above the executor’s endorsement. This
done, he brushed an imaginary speck from his cuff, as he had seen Eaton
do, and went out, closing the door softly.
“Well, here’s the answer, Eichberg,” said Copeland, with affected
nonchalance; “here are those Reynolds shares.”
“How did that damn’ little fool get this?” demanded Eichberg, after a
careful scrutiny of the certificate and endorsements.
“Oh, he’s a useful little damn’ fool! He’s always picking up
something,” replied Copeland coolly.
“I suppose it was all set up,” Eichberg sneered. “Why didn’t you come
right out and say you had that stock, and save my time? It’s worth
something if yours ain’t! You’ll either sell me that stock or I’ll have
the court throw you out. It’s up to you!”
“I told you the truth about these shares,” said Copeland, whose good
humor was returning. “I’m ashamed to say I’d clean forgotten them; but
you see stock never figured much in our corporation; it’s always been
a sort of family affair. I have no idea where Amidon got Reynolds’s
shares--that’s straight! He’s always doing something he isn’t paid for.
And you see it isn’t quite so easy to clean me out. But I take off my
hat to you; you’re a business man!”
Hope had risen in him. In spite of his futile efforts to tide over
the crisis there was still the remote chance that Kinney, who always
seemed able to borrow all he wanted for his own purposes, might extend
a helping hand. His change of manner had its effect on Eichberg.
“The stock doesn’t cut any ice,” he fumed. “I’m not goin’ to have a
hundred thousand dollars in a concern that’s losin’ money like this
one! That statement you showed the bank was rotten! You ain’t got any
credit; and you know mighty well you can’t go on here. You’ll either
come to terms or I’ll get a receiver to-morrow. That’s all there is of
that!”
He clapped on his hat and turned to the door just as it opened upon
Eaton.
“I’ll look in again in the morning, Copeland,” said Eichberg in a loud
tone. “You just think over that matter, and I guess you’ll see it my
way.”
“Never put off till to-morrow what you can do to-day,” remarked Eaton,
projecting himself into the office. “I’ll close the door if you don’t
mind, Copeland. And, Mr. Eichberg, please wait a moment.”
“If you’re his lawyer, you don’t want me here. I’ve said all I’ve got
to say to Copeland,” Eichberg answered. But he waited, glowering at
Eaton, who removed his overcoat, placed it carefully on a chair, and
began drawing off his gloves.
“Mr. Eichberg, they told me a moment ago at the Western National that
certain stock held as collateral for maturing Copeland-Farley notes had
been bought by you. Is that true?”
“That’s correct! I guess it was all regular,” Eichberg snapped.
“We’ll come to that presently. You have now in your possession through
that purchase fourteen hundred and eighty-five shares of stock?”
“Right!” ejaculated Eichberg loudly.
Eaton raised his hand, glanced intently at the palm, and then, with one
of his familiar tricks, bent his gaze directly upon Eichberg.
“Being a competitor of Copeland-Farley and a director of the bank, you
have naturally--quite naturally--thought it would be a good investment
to own a large block of the stock? And it undoubtedly occurred to you
that a combination of Copeland-Farley with Corbin & Eichberg would
be highly advantageous? In fact, you thought you had more stock than
Copeland owns, and that you could come in here and discharge him like a
drayman!”
“That’s my business! You haven’t explained yet how you come to be
buttin’ in here.”
“Presently--presently!” replied Eaton soothingly.
His calm demeanor and refusal to lift his voice further infuriated
Eichberg, who breathed hard for a moment, then pointed a stubby
forefinger at the lawyer as his wrath found utterance.
“Copeland-Farley’s ruined--busted! If you’ll take a look at their last
statement you’ll see they can’t pull out!”
“You anticipate me,” replied Eaton gently. “The fact is I had meant to
buy that stock myself, but the bank’s haste to turn it over to you has
spoiled that. I was annoyed--greatly annoyed--when I found awhile ago
that the stock had been sold--sold, in violation of the stipulation--on
the bank’s usual form--that three days’ grace were to be given to the
debtor to release his collateral. I don’t believe the Comptroller would
like that. I shall consider seriously bringing it to his attention.”
“What good would three days have done him?” cried Eichberg. “The sooner
he’s put out the better. His accounts payable are goin’ to bring his
general creditors down on him in a few days! Don’t you suppose I know?
Haven’t they been telegraphin’ me from all over the country for months
askin’ about this house?”
“And, of course,” said Eaton softly, “you did all you could to
protect your competitor--neighborly feeling, and that sort of thing.
Well, it will be a great relief to you to know that those accounts
will be paid to-morrow--just as soon as the exchange window of your
piratical bank is opened. There’s a hundred thousand dollars to the
credit of Copeland-Farley over there right now. I know, because I
went in a quarter of an hour ago and made the deposit. This house is
solvent--absolutely solvent. Moreover, Copeland’s stock in the Kinney
Ivory Cement Company is now marketable. I take some pride in that fact
myself--immodestly, I dare say, and yet--I am only human!”
He drew a telegram from his waistcoat pocket and handed it to Copeland.
“That patent case was decided to-day--in favor of Kinney. Copeland, I
congratulate you!”
Copeland read the message, and looked dully from Eaton to Eichberg.
He was roused by Eichberg, who had no difficulty in expressing his
emotions.
“You fool,” he shouted, shaking his fist in Eaton’s face. “If you’re
tellin’ the truth, what do you mean to do about my stock?”
Eaton was drawing on his gloves without haste. His face expressed the
mildest surprise at Eichberg’s perturbation.
“My dear Mr. Eichberg, you were in such a rush to buy the Western’s
collateral that I’m surprised that you should trouble me--a casual
acquaintance--with such a question.”
“It’s a cheat; it’s a swindle! If there’s any law for this--”
He flung out of the office and tramped heavily to the front door, while
the clerks, worn with the many agitations of the day, stared after him
mutely.
“In the morning,” Eaton was saying to Copeland, “I’ll have fuller
details of the decision, but there’s no doubt about it--we’ve won on
every point. Allow me to congratulate you!”
Copeland half rose to take his proffered hand; then with a groan he
sank back and buried his face in his hands.